


Ice Cream Social

by belncaz



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Ice Cream, M/M, Post-The King's Men, kind of a ben & jerry's au i guess, lowkey romance, too much ice cream is consumed - they will regret it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 21:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10817142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belncaz/pseuds/belncaz
Summary: The crew goes to a Ben & Jerry's to tackle the Vermonster Sundae.





	Ice Cream Social

A/N: I wanted ice cream but instead wrote a story about ice cream, ish. Yay. Hope you like it!

 

* * *

 

"What's this thing you wanted, Nicky?" Kevin was scanning the menu looking for a sign advertising some strange concoction that Nicky had mentioned on the way over. He found it just as Nicky started speaking.

Nicky’s dreamy explanation was a near perfect recitation of the menu’s description, “The Vermonster Sundae. It’s 20 scoops of ice cream, four sliced bananas, three cookies and a brownie, two pumps each of hot fudge and caramel, ten spoonfuls of chopped walnuts, whipped cream, and up to two spoonfuls each of four toppings. Simply GLORIOUS.”

“I swear if one of those flavors isn’t Bourbon Brown Butter you are all walking home.” Andrew’s reply was bored but there didn’t seem to be much evidence he was joking.

“Phish Food would be nice.” Nicky’s choice was offered jauntily.

“I want a coffee flavored one.” Aaron didn’t make it sound like something optional.

 “Chocolate chip cookie dough.” Kevin was a simple creature sometimes.

“Something with peanut butter.” Matt threw his idea out to anyone listening.

“I think we can all agree we should leave out Chunky Monkey?” Renee’s peaceful interjection was met with grumbling signs of consensus but it simply drove them back into arguing for what else would be selected.

The strained smile of the clerk behind the counter indicated more clearly than words that this debate had been going on for some time. She tried to intervene. “It includes 20 scoops. Generally, people stick with four or five flavors, but you can divide them however you want if you'd like to include more variety. Everyone can have a scoop of their favorite.”

Dan, standing next to Matt, muttered under her breath to him, “Maybe we should go back to the original plan of individual orders.”

Matt chuckled and sent her a sly wink. “Don’t tell me our fearsome captain is going to be defeated by ice cream?”

The scathing look she shot his way drew an outright laugh and the others turned to see what was so funny.

Allison cocked a hand on her hip and offered her own solution, “Why don’t we just get more than one of these stupid things? We can group similar flavors together, can’t we?”

The cashier appeared to be holding her breath that this idea might actually resume the peace in the compact ice cream parlor. Ever since they’d arrived, the space had felt exponentially smaller despite the fact the Foxes were the only patrons at the moment. They’d ventured to the Ben & Jerry’s store on a whim – Andrew had said he wanted ice cream, but rather than it turning into a moment where the upperclassmen were excluded, there had been a pause. Neil looked at Andrew with a small spark of a question in his eyes, _can they come, too?_ Andrew had sighed, the irritation embedded within the noise signaling his answer even though he didn’t outright say anything either way.

The upperclassmen had been about to return to their own activities when Neil called out to them, “Do any of you want to get ice cream with us?”

The Foxes had done many things together from practicing to partying, and on the surface, this should have been one of their more harmless adventures. Yet the potential for a skirmish was still there; their personalities were too explosive for it not to be. To their credit though, the upperclassmen had not hesitated even a fraction of a second before agreeing.

Andrew's lips quirked up at Allison's suggestion – it wasn't a necessarily friendly expression, but it wasn't an entirely hostile one, either. "Are you going eat more than a spoonful anyway?" There was mild curiosity – and an absolute challenge – in his question.

Flipping an errant strand of hair out of her way, Allison's eyes gleamed and she reached into her purse to triumphantly extract a plastic bag that held several sturdy metal spoons, enough for all of them to have one. "This isn't my first rodeo. I'm not here to be a spectator. You can all thank me for saving you from trying to handle this with those wimpy plastic spoons they would give us by leaving out the cotton candy pieces."

Nicky's small round of delighted applause was accompanied by laughter and several bets started taking shape.  The atmosphere was easier now with the edge of a competition, a companionable rivalry that had not been expected, but was familiar enough all the same.

Suddenly Dan turned her head searchingly and upon locating her target, asked her question. "Neil? You haven't said anything yet; what flavor do you want?"

She probably hadn't meant her question to be quite so loud, it had just come out during a brief lull in the conversation. But suddenly all their eyes were focused on Neil with various degrees of inquisitive intensity.

Neil shrugged and smiled. "I guess any of those would be a good choice. I'm fine with whatever, really."

Nicky's wailed, "But Neil! You have to pick a flavor, it's a teambuilding thing. Ra, ra, we're being social with ice cream or something like that," was a hint that Neil should give in and just state his preferences.

Andrew crossed his arms across his chest and waited for Neil to answer. "Well, Josten? This was your idea; you might as well contribute to this abomination of a sundae."

Grinning and keeping eye contact with Andrew, Neil conceded, "Well then, I want the Salty Blond." He paused, deliberately rechecking the menu, "Oh, I meant the Salted Caramel Blondie, my mistake."

There was a pause as everyone absorbed Neil's words before a raucous laughter swept through them. Andrew endured the jibe with relative grace, lowering his eyelids and smiling slightly. But his calm, "I'll remember that," wasn't precisely threat-free.

Unconcerned, Neil said only, "I know you will."

Finally, after much debate, they got their choices in. One Vermonster had Brownie Batter, Coffee flavor, Phish Food, Totally Baked, and Bourbon Brown Butter. They ordered a second that had Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Americone Dream, Tubby Hubby, and of course, the Salted Caramel Blondie. The toppings went wild with cascades of cookie pieces, chocolate candy, gummy bears – despite Allison’s warning they would get harder to eat as they got cold – and sprinkles.

Allison distributed the spoons she’d brought with the air of a queen dispensing favors on especially undeserving peasants. But that image was ruined by the unquestionable look of excitement on her face. They had already claimed enough seating, and as they were spacing themselves around the bucket that had their preferred flavors, each of them was prepared to wage war to ensure they got their share of the extras. It ended up with Nicky, Dan, and Matt on one part of the curve, with Neil, Kevin, and Allison taking the remaining seats on that side. Renee was across from Allison, with Andrew to her left, and Aaron on his twin’s other side. The surface was narrow and they were pressed fairly close together as a result – all the better to reach the ice cream.

By unspoken agreement, they waited for Dan’s signal. She raised her spoon like a conductor’s baton and issued the magic words, “First team to reach the bottom wins. Losers have to explain to Coach why we can’t move for the next month. Dig in!”

Her words brought the fleetest of smiles before game faces reappeared. Nobody liked to lose. It was a race and a battle all at once as spoons began flying toward the buckets and elbows were barely avoided in the chaotic free for all. At first it was easy – the top layers were mostly whipped cream and toppings, a fluffy, misleadingly easy mound to consume. Then the cookies, brownies, and bananas were revealed. And finally, at long last, ice cream scoops could be seen.

It was delicious and decadent, easily the most ridiculous serving of food in their lives, but they kept at it despite the threat of sugar highs and brain freezes. There was no surprise when it turned painful though; the increasingly full pressure in their stomachs fighting with the sharp pangs in their heads would have slowed them down if they didn’t have various bets in the works.

Their pace increased, with spoons moving at a nearly dizzying speed as the buckets were emptied rapidly with the determination only the Foxes could summon. When it was over – signaled by the sound of spoons finally hitting the bottom of the pail, they’d forgotten to check to see who finished first. It was a rare moment of oversight in their betting-obsessed dynamics, but they could be forgiven.

Nicky spoke out with a distressed, “I think I’m going to die. Give my love to Erik.” He set his spoon down and gingerly rubbed his stomach as if it would really help.

 “Go get coffee, Nicky. You’ll feel better with something warm.” It was all the breath Dan had to spare for her comrade before she herself leaned back in her chair with a slightly queasy look on her face.

Any onlookers may have assumed they were all hungover as they sat in a kind of glum stupor trying to quell a potential rebellion from their bodies at what they had just ingested. But then, with the resilience of their youth and the oncoming energy spike that was courtesy of millions of sugar crystals rushing through their systems – they found the humor in the situation. Even Aaron, who typically would not be so inclined to levity, found himself chuckling a little as the absurdity of what they had just done took hold of him.

Grumbling at the need to move, Nicky got up with the intent of going next door to grab coffee, but ruined the image by cheerfully offering, "Anyone else want anything?"

When several more orders than he expected were tossed his way he braced his hands on his waist and pouted. "Why don't we just all move next door then?"

Although some thought was given as to why that idea should be vetoed, in the end, they agreed it would be easier to move as a group. It took an enormous amount of will power, but they managed to haul themselves to their feet. The scoop shop attendant sent sympathetic smiles their way – they didn't seem quite so intimidating, now. She called out to them, "Would you like to keep the buckets? I can rinse them out for you if you want them as mementos."

Surprisingly, Andrew snatched them up and brought them to her. The others waited while the containers were rinsed and dried and returned to Andrew's custody. He nodded at her before stacking them and following the other Foxes out to go next door.

The café was busier than the ice cream parlor, but not by much. Everyone ordered their drinks and gratefully sipped the hot coffee, hoping it would work some magic for them. They were scattered around a cluster of small tables and booths, with Neil on the inside of a booth and Andrew next to him. Nicky and Aaron were opposite.

Renee’s quiet but playful, “So we should make this a weekly thing, right?” was met with pained groans from Matt, Dan, and Nicky. Aaron shook his head but didn’t respond otherwise, Andrew closed his eyes, and Neil just shrugged.

Allison laughed a little before she chimed in, “Unless we’re planning to buy stock in indigestion medicine, I don’t recommend it.” She paused, “Or if we wanted to make a pyramid with the buckets. But otherwise, I don’t know if we’re up to it.”

Matt indulged in a slow, thorough stretch complete with twisting his torso as he sat. “You said you’d done it before though?”

She shot him a glance before answering – her tone somewhere between wistfulness and regret. “Seth and I got one for a date once. He was feeling super relaxed and playful; I can’t remember how it came up but he seemed really upbeat about the prospect so we did.”

Out of habit, Neil started to straighten and felt the need to say something to her, but as if he’d anticipated this, Andrew’s eyes opened and he turned his head to stare at Neil. If you didn’t know how to read him, Andrew’s expression would have seemed blank and inscrutable. To Neil, though, that evenness only reminded Neil that Andrew had already covered this with him. Besides, Allison didn’t want guilty feelings from him in the first place. He settled back and let the moment pass as Renee murmured something appropriate – she seemed to have a knack for that, especially with Allison.

Andrew looked away from Neil and reached out to lazily rock the stacked buckets. The rhythmic motion of the plastic over the wood surface seemed meditative for a moment before he glanced sideways at Neil again and spoke, “I’m going outside for a minute.” It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but it also was, and Neil understood.

Neil obligingly exited the booth after Andrew, both of them ignoring the suggestive catcalls of their teammates. The day was beautiful, sunny and with a slight breeze to stave off the seemingly ever-present humidity. Andrew leaned back against the wall that was shared between the ice cream parlor and café, and stared broodingly at Neil.

“I have two – no, three – questions for you.” He said it neutrally and Neil picked up on the implication.

“I’ll save mine.” He was agreeing to let Andrew have three consecutive questions, and Andrew nodded his acceptance of Neil’s deferment.

“First, you don’t really think she’d mention Seth to get you to feel bad, do you?” He was standing in the shade offered by an awning and his eyes seemed somehow brighter for the contrast.

“What? No, of course not!” Neil didn’t even have to fake his surprise; he hadn’t expected that.

Andrew nodded. “Good, you’re not completely hopeless then. Because we already know who killed Seth and it wasn’t you. So for you to keep shouldering unnecessary guilt makes me think you must believe Allison blames you and wants you to know it.” He rubbed his jaw briefly before continuing. “She doesn’t. You know it. Work on believing it.”

Possibly aware that Neil couldn’t just magically conform to Andrew’s order, he moved on. “Second question.” He arched an eyebrow and pointedly mimicked Neil’s tone of voice from earlier, “ _I want the_ _salty blond_?”

Neil couldn’t help it, he grinned unrepentantly as he affirmed with ostensible innocence, “It’s my favorite.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed in speculation. He reached out a hand and Neil took it without hesitation. Andrew pulled him closer and switched positions to push Neil back against the wall.

“Third question.” He stared at Neil’s mouth for a moment, cluing Neil into what it was before the words even took shape. Andrew asked anyway. “Yes or no?” Now the shadows from the awning and the slight roughness of his voice turned Andrew into something nearly otherworldly as his charismatic intensity focused solely on Neil.

“Yes.”  Andrew didn’t waste time and kissed Neil with a thoroughness that seemed especially effective given their location. But neither of them really cared about that – there were few people around to see this encounter anyway.

Neil smiled at Andrew when the kiss stopped and spoke as if picking up their prior conversation, “Lucky thing I’ve got access to the best source of top-quality salty blond then, isn’t it?” The mischievousness of his question didn’t hide the fact his breath had quickened.

Andrew’s groan and choked laugh were followed by Andrew pressing his lips to Neil’s again as if to cut off any further embarrassing comments. It was softer than Neil expected, and held a feeling of resigned amusement, even though Andrew would never admit such a thing. It was a promise for later and the warmth that flooded Neil’s body was half affection and half anticipation.

The rest of the day was spent in mindless camaraderie with the others. There was no real point to anything they did and that was exactly a good enough reason for all of it. But that evening, when Andrew and Neil were alone, there was an overindulgence of an altogether different sort, even if this one did not come with a commemorative bucket.

 


End file.
